He leaves such a mess behind
by feathered moon wings
Summary: The Doctors path always leaves such destruction and ash in his wake. It's always his fault, always.


**Abril: First (in the many to come I hope) of the Lyric Challenge I'm doing with** **Shadow-ying.**

 **It consists on sending the other a paragraph (or two) of a song for them to make in the span of 24 hours a story about anything.**

 **Hope you enjoy it :)**

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 **Challenge:**

 _ **Don't tell the gods I left a mess**_

 _ **I can't undo what has been done**_

 _ **Let's run for cover**_

–Heroes– By Mans Zelmerlow

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He ran through the halls with long legs and his fast paced double-beat. As the Doctor saw the yellow door of the cupboard he had parked the TARDIS in, he pushed a little harder and yanked the lever open.

He closed the door with a slam and he pressed his forehead against the cold metal. Breathing in and out, he tried to calm his beating hearts if only a bit. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut and an unwilling sob escaped his lips.

Why? Why did it always have to end up like this? So many people, so many people screwed over and left a mess by the wretched _Doctor_. So many lives ruined, so many people dead.

The man sobbed harder. Shifting his body, he leaned his back against the yellow door and slid down. With his arms over his head, the Doctor hid his face between his legs. His back shaking with silent wails.

But it wasn't just people he meat in his every day life, so wonderful but gone in a flash; it was his friends, his _family_ that he messed with. Humans and species; creatures so close to his heart they could actually squeeze it with their words in gentle speech and laugh.

Donna, left inside a stupid world that didn't appreciate her and a mind that didn't appreciate itself. Ruled over by the mundane of her thoughts and her social circles of materialism and domestic gossip.

Martha, so under-appreciated by him, so cast aside and so fed up with it; a wonderful woman and he had treated her like dirt! Her life turned into violence because the Doctor had left her with no other choice. So bright and brilliant. _All his fault_.

Clara, scattered around all of time and space like _dust_ , never complete, never truly whole, and she couldn't really grasp what that had made of her. Left without pink in her life that she needed so much more than him, _and she didn't even realize it_. All for the man that left death and ashes ay his wake, the man that burned with a touch and always ran; ran far away and never looked back.

They deserved that at least, right? For the Doctor to look back; for them to be remembered. But he was the man who forgets. Worst of them all. _How could he ever forget_?

And his beautiful Rose, so royally screwed in oh-so-many ways. Taken away from her life and dumped back in a world that had thought her gone. Burned by time and space; _her choice, always his fault_. Trapped in a universe she didn't even want to be in, left with a consolation prize. Dead to the world back here. "Are you afraid…?" she had asked. The answer in the Doctor's hearts was yes, _always yes_. So scared.

Amy and Rory. _Dead, dead, dead, dead_. By the hand of the Doctor if he had anything to say about the matter. Their lives run over again and again by him; disrupted every time he set foot on their porch. And they'd welcome him with open arms and smiles on their faces. _Dead, never to be seen again._

It was always his fault and it always would be. He made himself small in the silent cupboard, didn't wish to be seen to be noticed, because he burned like a thousand suns the eyes of all those who came near him. And he knew this; he had always known. He kept asking himself why he couldn't control his urges and just keep away from them. His humans, his family.

But not all time could be molded to his will; he knew this. It always fell on his shoulders. _His fault, all his fault_.

With a snotty sniff, he wiped his face of the angry tears that had wet his cheeks and stood up shakily. He walked to the TARDIS and closed the doors of the only constant in his life with tired arms.

And the Doctor better run for cover, because once again he had made a mess and people had suffered because of it. Nothing could be done. Anyway, it's always the same.

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 **Abril: This takes place around the time Clara is still with the eleventh doctor, if anyone wanted context. But she's not in this adventure with him.**

 **And well, I hope it's decent-ish. It was done in short time but it's part of the challenge so :) all in good fun (and for practice too I suppose).**

 **I love sad stuff, assume what you want people, anything could've happened here.**

 **Thanks to my beta Mondhaze for the help too!**


End file.
